Tara Duncan and the Spellbinders

by Princess Sophie Audouin-Mamikonian

  He scowled at Sparrow, who had a big grin on her face and was energetically nodding in agreement.

  “You’re right, Tara!” he continued. “They can change shape. They can change into a wolf . . . or a bat! That must be how Master Dragosh can leave his room without our being able to see him. In this warm weather all the Castle windows are open. He can fly in without activating any magic spells, so he doesn’t trip the alarm or the anti-mosquito spells.”

  “That would explain last night,” said Tara, thinking hard. “But how can we keep an eye on a guy who can fly? And we can’t go out at night anyway.”

  Looking gloomy, the three friends were racking their brains when Gallant raised his head and whinnied joyously. He stroked Tara with his wing, then flew out the window to perch like a cat in the enormous oak tree that loomed over the south side of the Castle.

  Cal, Sparrow, and Tara were trying to understand what he was up to when Sheeba also ran outside and climbed the oak tree. Then Blondin scurried through a hole in the wall, reappeared out on the grass, and ducked behind the oak, leaving only the tip of his muzzle showing.

  Sparrow, who was the most intuitive of the three, suddenly got it.

  “They’re geniuses! Our familiars are geniuses!”

  Cal and Tara were staring at each other, unsure of what their friend meant, when their eyes lit up at the same instant.

  “They’re going to be our lookouts!” they said together.

  The familiars had found the answer. They were much freer to come and go than the young spellbinders—and who better to follow a flying animal than another flying animal? Standing watch became a lot easier, because when Blondin wasn’t watching, Sheeba or Gallant was.

  But Master Dragosh didn’t seem to fly anywhere special. He simply fluttered around the Castle without entering any particular room. The three spies finally decided that he was an insomniac, or that he liked moonlight, or that it was something vampyrs did, exhausting themselves by flying here and there all night long.

  Tara was feeling so worried about Fabrice that she had chewed halfway through her white forelock, and Cal didn’t know what to do to reassure her.

  For her part, Sparrow was also going through a difficult period. She had a secret that she couldn’t share, and it was eating at her.

  She had already almost given herself away several times—when she unpacked her clothes, for example. Tara was smart enough to know that the person Sparrow claimed to be didn’t have the means to pay for those kinds of clothes. Sparrow had noticed her reaction and had almost told her the truth. She liked Tara, but something still stood between them, and she knew that her friend was aware of her distance.

  For his part, Cal noticed that Angelica’s flying lizard seemed to spend a lot of time around them. Whenever he turned his head, Cal would spy the tip of a glittering wing, a golden eye, or a scaly claw. In the beginning, he thought the little familiar was just curious. But as the business continued, he laughed when he realized what was going on.

  They were watching the vampyr, and Angelica was watching them.

  Angelica was nasty, but she wasn’t stupid. She clearly understood that Tara was powerful, even though she had trouble controlling her gift. She also was in no doubt as to the identity of the person who had blown her up. Finally, she felt she had less influence over the other apprentices than she’d had the year before. A terrible hunger for revenge began to build in her.

  So Angelica sent her flying lizard to see what the three were up to. She hoped to catch them redhanded doing something wrong, so she could turn them in. And if she could do worse, she wouldn’t hesitate.

  Lying in bed, she often wondered how she could get rid of her rival.

  One approach would be to get Tara in trouble during a session of the Council. Another would be to leak information only the high wizards had, to make Tara look like a spy. But Angelica’s trap had to be perfect, so no one would suspect her of having set it. And the apprentices were all too close for her to act without being noticed.

  One evening, she was mulling over revenge fantasies when she suddenly sat up. Yes! She knew what she would do!

  Angelica glanced toward Tara’s room and gave a nasty chuckle. That girl will rue the day she’d ever set foot on OtherWorld, she thought.

  CHAPTER 10

  HIGH WIZARDS AND EVIL SPELLS

  T he following day, Tara awoke with a feeling of . . . emptiness. As if something had been taken from her.

  She spent nearly all day wondering about it until the moment she absentmindedly grabbed her white forelock to chew on it and missed by a couple of inches. Someone had cut her hair—or at least a strand of it.

  Tara mentioned it to Sparrow, who just laughed.

  “You’ve been so worried about Fabrice, you never quit chewing on that silly strand. I’m not surprised it’s shorter.”

  “Look, I know somebody cut it,” Tara said firmly. “I don’t know who, why, or how, but I know how long my strand is, and last night it was different, and—”

  She was interrupted by a sudden burst of excitement at the door to the common room. An excited Cal rushed in, holding a sheet of paper.

  “Listen to this!” he shouted. “Thanks to our dear Tara here”— Cal grinned at her—“we’ve asked the Omois high wizards for help. ‘I am therefore announcing that the Omois High Council has agreed to receive us in Tingapore to help cure the poor child of her attacks of demonic magic. The Lancovit high wizards and their apprentices are hereby invited to the Imperial Palace.’ You heard it here first!”

  A lively hubbub filled the room. Cal walked over to Tara and Sparrow. Besides hair problems, they’d also been discussing the lives, mores, and customs of OtherWorld, some of which struck Tara as totally weird. Female dwarves, for example, weren’t allowed to shave until they reached the age of 250. And lady elves couldn’t have more than five husbands.

  “Did you hear that?” Cal asked, eyes shining with excitement.

  “We aren’t stone deaf, so your stentorian voice was strong enough for us to perceive it,” said smiling Sparrow, who was having a minor s relapse.

  “I hope the trip is soon,” said Tara. “My gift has been acting very strangely the last few days and I’m really worried. Where are we going again, Tingapore? That’s in Omois, right?”

  “You really don’t know a thing, do you?” came a chilly voice behind her. “Tingapore is the capital of Omois, and its Palace puts this pathetic Castle in the shade, believe me.”

  Her hissing lizard perched on her shoulder, Angelica was scornfully looking down at Tara.

  Cal was about to protest but Angelica had already turned and left.

  “What a pest that girl is!” he snapped.

  “What’s she so excited about?” asked Tara.

  “Once you’re cured, we’ll get to visit the sensational, fabulous, extraordinary, unique city of Tingapore, since the Imperial Palace is right downtown. The high Omois wizards probably want to impress us, so that we—Lancovit’s talented and good-looking apprentice spellbinders—will want to work for them.”

  “Tingapore! That’s so cool!” said Sparrow, her eyes shining. “They say there’s more business done there than in any city on the planet. All the races go to Tingapore to trade. I absolutely must crystal my mom and get her to send me some extra creds.”

  She turned to Tara. “Did your grandmother give you any money for this sort of occasion?”

  Tara was about to say no when she suddenly remembered what Chem said when she registered.

  “Yeah. I have fifty of those gold thingies, I think.”

  Cal looked like he was going to choke.

  “Fifty gold immutacreds? Is your grandmother a millionaire, or what?”

  “Why, is that a lot? And why are they called immutacreds, anyway?”

  “With fifty gold immuta-creds you could live in the fanciest resort in Omois for months. Each gold cred is worth three silver ones, and each silver cred is worth twelve brass ones. Fifty gold immuta-creds
would be . . . lemme see . . . about what a skilled worker could earn in two years. My dad gave me ten brass creds, which is really chintzy. That might just buy me a giant scorpionhide belt or a few pounds of Boom Bars, those candies that explode in your mouth. They’re called ‘immuta-credits’ because they’re immutable; they can’t be forged or transformed. Spellbinders can’t replicate them or change their value, which avoids inflation problems. What about you, Sparrow? How much do you have?”

  “I have ten silver creds,” she happily announced, “and I plan to spend it all in Tingapore!”

  “I don’t need that much money,” said Tara. “We can share it.”

  “You’d really do that?” asked Cal.

  “Well, sure. Why not? You’re my two best friends. Besides, what do I need to buy?”

  Cal was delighted. “You’re gonna eat your words when we get to Tingapore! But a promise is a promise!”

  “Did you guys go on any trips last year?” Tara asked.

  “Man, did we ever!” said Cal, remembering happily. “We went to Earth to Novel York, for a secret conference arranged by the nonspells.”

  “Don’t you mean New York, in the United States?”

  “Yeah, that’s it. There’s a Portal on top of one of your skyscrapers, the Chrysler Building. Really tall and handsome, with lots of shiny chrome everywhere. After the conference we had a couple of days to visit nonspell cities, and it was great. But the trip was cut short when High Wizard Chemnashaovirodaintrachivu had a little problem.”

  “Really? What happened?”

  “We were admiring the view on top of another skyscraper, the Empire State Building, when Master Chem noticed a pretty girl wearing a scarf. The wind blew the scarf away, and Chem caught it just before it went over the guardrail. The girl was really grateful. But her hunky boyfriend came back with a couple of Cokes just then and saw Chem putting the scarf around the girl’s neck. He blew up, called him a dirty old man, and wanted to punch his lights out. Chem was so startled, he reflexively turned into a dragon.”

  The two girls began to laugh.

  “No kidding? Right on top of the Empire State Building?”

  “That’s right. We had to erase the memory of the previous ten minutes from all the nonspells on the observation deck and get the heck back to OtherWorld. The High Council called Chem on the carpet and really chewed him out.”

  Tara could well imagine the boyfriend’s surprise when the doddering old man suddenly showed his fangs. “The guy must’ve been scared to death, don’t you think?”

  “I don’t know, ‘cause he fainted, like a lot of the other nonspells. Chem was furious at being attacked, and he decided to let the boyfriend keep his memory. So the guy distinctly remembered roughing up an elderly gentleman who suddenly turned into a dragon. As we were leaving, I saw an old lady trying to bring him ‘round. When he opened his eyes and saw the old lady slapping his cheeks, he must’ve figured she was the dragon in disguise, ‘cause he ran away screaming.”

  By that point, Sparrow and Tara were limp with laughter.

  At last, the day of the trip to Omois finally arrived. Bags were packed, and everything made ready. Angelica drew some sarcastic remarks from Cal, who claimed she’d packed enough clothes to outfit a family for a whole year. Tara miniaturized Gallant so he could stay with her during the transfer.

  As they lined up at the Portal for the trip, the cyclops steward was freaking out, as usual.

  “Come along, let’s have some order here,” he barked. “We need discipline! Four at a time. One, two, three, four—go!” He ran behind a desk with a little smoked glass screen, and yelled, “Omois Imperial Palace!”

  The people, their baggage, and the wizards’ essential papers all vanished.

  Tara again felt that vague nausea she felt during her first transfer. When she looked around she blinked, dazzled.

  The Imperial Palace’s arrival hall was at least ten times bigger than Lancovit’s. Gleaming statues of people wearing loincloths or kimonos sewn with precious stones stood in the four corners of the room. The tapestries that allowed the transfers were so bright, they looked as if they had been woven only the night before. Gold—or a substance that looked very much like it—glittered on every wall.

  “Wow, do you see that stuff?” blurted Cal, his future licensed thief’s fingers itching.

  “Kinda hard to miss,” said Sparrow sarcastically. “It’s everywhere!”

  But at that point Cal noticed the reception committee and decided not to touch anything—or even look. A hundred four-armed guards had two hundred sharp spears pointed right at the spellbinders’ belly buttons.

  “What . . . what’s going on?” squeaked Sparrow.

  “We’re in Tingapore, all right,” said Robin, looking around. “I recognize the Palace Portal Hall. Those are the Imperial guards. They’re a little paranoid, so don’t make any sudden moves.”

  Behind a desk like the one at Lancovit stood a young woman who was stunningly beautiful, once you got used to her three sets of arms. Very useful when carrying packages, Tara thought to herself, but probably a drag when doing your nails. The young woman bowed graciously, ordered the guards to stand aside, and greeted them:

  “Welcome to Tingapore. My name is Kali and I am the Palace administrator. Please follow our hospitality delegate, who will show you to your rooms. I hope you enjoy your stay with us.”

  A teenager with a crown of shiny black hair stood next to her. Bowing, he politely introduced himself: “My name is Damien. Be so kind as to follow me.”

  The Palace’s decor was sumptuous, magnificent, and showy. Walls of green marble whose dark veins flowed like rivers gave way to walls of marble yellow encrusted with luminous mother of pearl. Bridges soared over interior gardens. The empress was fond of animals, and many of them roamed the Palace freely. These included vrrirs, large six-legged white and gold felines that lived in a world of enchanted illusion. Instead of the Palace’s chairs and beds, they saw fallen trees and comfortable stones. And when the courtiers stroked them, they felt only the caress of the wind. They were magnificent prisoners, blind to reality.

  Precious carpets covered the floors, golden statues stood guard, the hallways went on for miles, and banks of windows admitted bright summer sunshine.

  The Omois spellbinders wore robes cut from a kind of animated purple and gold fabric that changed pattern with their moods. The bright colors sharply contrasted with the Lancovians’ sober blues and silvers.

  The two girls were fascinated, but Robin and Cal traded snarky comments that included words like “peacocks,” “show-offs,” and “bling.” But they dropped their criticism when they reached their rooms. In Omois, it wasn’t the Palace that was alive, but the doors. Damien stood in front of the first one, and an enormous eye blinked open.

  “Yes?” said a mouth that appeared under the eye along with an ear.

  “Damien, apprentice spellbinder to High Wizard Lady Auxia. I am escorting these guests. Open the door, please.”

  The eye blinked, registering the young spellbinders’ faces, and disappeared. An arm shot out where the ear had been and opened the door to a magnificent suite of rooms.

  The mouth reappeared, and spoke: “You may enter. Welcome, guests of Their Imperial Majesties. Here are your rooms.”

  They were private rooms, the kind you give honored visitors.

  Each spellbinder had a suite consisting of a bedroom, a living room with a work table, a couch, and several chairs, and a bathroom whose tub was practically the size of a swimming pool. Comfy baskets with cushions had been set out for the familiars, and Blondin plopped into one with an audible sigh. In one corner a huge crystal panel, a sort of flat-screen TV, was showing a war between heavily armed dwarves and elves, who were shooting their arrows so fast, they were a blur. Everything was incredibly luxurious.

  Sparrow, Cal, and Robin happily took possession of their rooms, and the boys tested the mattresses by bouncing on them. Tara, who was worried about her upcoming
exorcism, hardly budged.

  Damien informed them that they could visit each other until lights out, which was half past midnight for guests, except in the event of a banquet or other special occasion. An ifrit, a flying djinn in the empress’s service, would come to take them to the dining room. Because the Palace was so big, it was easy to get lost. Familiars were not allowed to wander in the Palace alone; they had to stay with their companions.

  The high wizards went into a meeting as soon as they arrived, so their apprentices had a couple of free hours to get settled. Closing doors was simple, Damien explained. You simply said your name, and each door recognized you, the same way they let you in. The spellbinders’ accredi-cards had been programmed when they arrived. Some areas, of course, were forbidden.

  Damien added that he hoped that they would enjoy their stay in Tingapore and went off to greet other guests.

  When they had all been recognized by the various doors, the young people gathered in Tara’s room.

  “So, what do you think?” asked Cal.

  “I think it’s fantastic!” said Sparrow enthusiastically. “I’ve never had such a big room before!”

  “We could have sea battles in the bathtub, it’s so big,” said Tara with a grin. “But don’t you think it’s a bit much?”

  “Absolutely,” said Cal loyally. “Our Royal Castle is a lot less pretentious than this one.”

  “Who heads their High Council?” asked Tara. “A dragon, like Master Chem?”

  “No,” said Robin, who seemed well informed. “Omoisians don’t like the other races much. The High Council is chaired by High Wizard Lady Auxia, a cousin of Empress Lisbeth and Emperor Sandor.”

  There was a knock on the door, and Tara cried, “Come in!”

  The suitcases glided in, and the spellbinders hurried to their rooms to hang up their things.

  Tara sighed. Reluctant to use her magic, she began putting her clothes away. Without really shaping the thought, it occurred to her that it would be a lot faster if her power cooperated. At that, her white forelock crackled and a tornado of clothes burst from the suitcases. In response to her unformulated thought, they rushed to put themselves away on the hangars and in the dresser drawers as Tara gaped, slack-jawed.